Image of the Invisible : Violence Fetish
by pyrogambit
Summary: Sequel to Image of the Invisible Worthington II's dead. The resistance army on the move. With a new activist rallying the humans to his side, the war has begun.
1. prologue

Alright, moving swiftly into Act II.

Thank you all who've been reading -- thanks **Yarrharr **for the review at the Prologue and **Time and Fate** and **smearedliner** for the reviews on the last chapter of _Image of the Invisible. _Let's just say that the X-Men are more delayed-reactive...and no, they probably won't show. DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU'VE READ THE FIRST STORY IN THIS SERIES!

kmf's stuff: Sorry. I take French. Shoulda caught that, but my teachers just never mentioned it. Ok, enjoy! It's short but good. Really!

curt's crap: (Thanks again Yarrharr.) Remember all, reviews equal love, Zippos and cards!

ps -- if this was a movie, most likely Christian Bale would play Adam Gearson.

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_**Prologue**_

Adam Gearson's face was clean-shaven, rather angular, rather plain. His most distinguishing features were his cupid's bow mouth and a scar through his left eyebrow.

Right now, it was hard to go anywhere without seeing that face.

Adam Gearson had stepped up to take the late Warren Worthington II's place at the head of the anti-mutant front. It was not that he was anti-mutant honestly...he saw it as a matter of science. The mutants were fascinating little lab-rats. Anomalies of a sort, though science had made amazing steps in finding out about them. Their powers fascinated Gearson most of all... How did they work? What was it that decided what type of powers a mutant would have?

Gearson was a protégè of the infamous William Stryker. He was Worthington's replacement. And he had always been a zealot in his studies.

Now his mission was to figure out what to do with the mutants -- he either had to assimilate them -- neutralise them -- or annihilate them. Judging from the nationwide reactions, Choice Two was the most efficient option.

But he'd get a few subjects to..."test"...before it all was over.

* * *

"Alright, den." 

"Alright, then?"

"Yeah, John. We got a war goin' on. We need t' get as many rallied 'round us in a central area as we can."

"And where the fuck do you propose we go to do that, Remy?" John glared across the table from his friend. "We can't stay in the Bronx forever, man. They're gettin' closer to findin' us out."

Remy smirked. John had come to find that simple expression could infuriate him like nothing else. "Well...out West, young man. Out West."

"To?"

"I don' kno." Remy looked over to Ian. He threw a pen at him. Ian stopped it in mid-air and sent it towards the map they had pinned up on one wall.

"Dere," Remy said, leaning across the table to look as John walked over to the map. The pen had stabbed in the middle of Nowheresville, Montana.

"So our training ground is gonna be in the middle of nowhere?"

"Where better, sir? Unless you want to move it up to Canada," Ian inputted.

"Fuck that. Alright." He turned to face his top two men. "Ian, get Jensen out on the communication lines." John himself still didn't understand how that all worked, but somehow every proactive mutant was in touch with his crew and techno-whiz Jensen controlled it all.

"Yes, sir."

"John... Just, John. Thanks, Ian." Ian gave a sharp nod then headed out. John turned to Remy.

"So, ready to play teacher again?"

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_(The lyric in the page break is from "Violence Fetish" by Disturbed.)_


	2. Chapter 1

Thanks to **smearedliner **for the review and to everyone who's been reading!

kmf's stuff: Thank you for the review! That just made my day, cause, if you haven't caught on yet, I write most of John's stuff. So, like curt says, don't be shy. Motivation is key.

curt's crap: Don't be shy, now. You still have to motivate us through three more stories ;-)

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_**Chapter One**_

Marie stared at the door. It was the fifth straight day she'd stayed cooped up in here. Not that it was bad -- there was a bed, a bathroom. Better than the alleys and buses she had slept in and on of late. But after fleeing to find open air, being stuck in a room wasn't her exact idea of what she had intended when she had started out.

Remy had come back by as he had said he would -- twice since then, but never for long. She wished he would stay, if only for her to have some kind of idea on what the hell was going on, if she could go out past this room, where the hell he was going (she had realised not long after he had left initially that this was his room, so she wondered where he was having to stay)...but she always forgot to ask.

She stomped her foot. Dammit, she would not be hidden away. She had always fended for herself (albeit more often than not she landed in trouble she needed help with) and she was going to find out more about this all.

Besides, a certain ex-X-Men named John Allerdyce was around and she intended to settle what the hell was up with him once and for all.

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John was in the room where he, Remy and Ian had decided on their next destination for the resistance. Staring at the map, he clasped his hands behind his back and spread his legs apart, taking the stance of a soldier. The door opening behind him brought his attention away from old memories as he turned to see who it was. With a sigh, he realized it was Rogue. He acknowledged her with a nod of the head, gesturing that it was ok for her to enter the room with the wave of his hand.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were in here. But now that I have you alone, we need to talk," she said. He turned around and watched her sink into a chair at the table he'd cluttered with maps and notes.

"Ok. Talk," he replied. She turned to look around the room.

"Why'd you leave us?" she asked. He snorted and turned back to studying the map.

"Is there a good explaination, Rogue? Is there something you want me to say? Are you asking for an apology? I left because I wanted power. I left because I was tired of protecting the humans, when all they do is hate us. I left because I hate humans. And I'm not sorry I left. I'm only sorry about the way I left," he stated, vehemence dripping from every word. She stood up and walked over to him, and before either knew what had happened, she slapped him.

"Then I guess you hate me. Because now I am human," she said. He scoffed at her, giving her a look that clearly said "duh, I already knew that" before taking a step back.

"No, I don't hate you, Rogue. I just... it's hard to explain," he told her. Folding her arms over her chest, she gave him a look that told him she wasn't leaving until he did explain.

"Well, it's about to get a hell of a lot simpler. So, explain it to me. Or I'm not leaving this room. Come on, John. What have humans ever done to you? Why do you hate us so much?" she asked, her voice cruel and inticing.

"What have humans ever done to me? Besides hating me for something I had no control over? Besides the fact that my father was a human? Besides the fact that he used to get drunk every night and beat me 'til I could barely stand on my own? Even before I was old enough to talk? Do you know what that's like? Living every day in fear of someone who's bigger and stronger and takes full advantage of that? Do you know what it's like to discover you have powers, tell your dad and have him beat you and tell you never to use them? Try that on for size and let's see how much you like humans, Rogue!" he yelled. He was about to leave the room when her soft voice stopped him at the door.

"Marie. Please, call me Marie," she said softly, turning to look at him. As soon as he turned to look at her he could see the forgiveness in her eyes, as well as the apology. He sighed and nodded.

"Have a good day...Marie," he replied, voice tired and resigned. He kept eye contact as he grabbed the door handle and opened the door.

"You, too, John. You, too," he heard her say before he left the room.

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Remy spread the word to ready for travel amongst what remained of their number. The battle with Worthington at his conference down in Washington had knocked them down a few men...of course, there had only been about thirty of them to begin with. Eagerly, and obediently, they started breaking down equipment and packing up what few belongs and the gear they had.

"Gambit!" A young girl came up to him -- Jubilee, he thought she had said she was called. She had short cropped jet-black hair and big almond-shaped eyes. "So where are we going?"

He looked back at her. "What, you not gonna go if I don' tell ya?"

Jubilee shook her head vehemently. "Oh, no. Just curious. Ian never tells us anything. When he barks, we jump. I like you best."

"Why, thank ya, _cherie._ We headin' out somewheres -- Montana maybe, eh?"

" 'Kay," she said, nodding curtly. Jubilee ran off to help the others. She wasn't necessarily a top member of the group -- not on the council -- but she held promise and was a good kid.

"Remy!"

Remy rolled his eyes, thinking as he turned around to face who he knew was John, that he was a popular person today. He may have known it was John, but what he hadn't expected was for pretty little Marie to be in tow. He didn't think John had noticed her behind him yet.

"Hey there, _ma belle_," Remy greeted her. John gave him a strange look then followed his eyes. He groaned.

"Keep a fuckin' leash on her, will ya?" he growled as he walked by, apparently changing his mind about whatever he had been going to tell Remy. Remy just shrugged and offered Marie his arm.

"You gon' go see Jensen, then?" he called after John.

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_(The lyric in the page break is from "Violence Fetish" by Disturbed.)_


	3. Chapter 2

Thank you **smearedliner** for the review!

Hey, Pyro plushie complete with shark Zippo if you know what characters on the council are originals!

kmf's stuff: Sorry it took so long. I've had some major head ache's for the past week and curt's been busy. Enjoy!

curt's crap: Yeah, sorry about the delay...complications, y'know? But here we are hopefully back in business._

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_**Chapter Two**_

Remy stood behind John as the new arrivals came in. Two men, two women. The heads of four of the top mutant sects in the country.

They were truly in the middle of nowhere, but they had found what seemed to be an abandoned airbase of some sort. Why it was out here, no one could figure out for the life of them. But there was a huge hangar, ideal for their needs. And they did not question that.

The council stood in line with Remy: Ian Thompson, Jensen, Evan Daniels, Cyndi Michaels, Tabitha Smith, Rhane Sinclair, Sam Guthrie, Trent Ryker, Kevin Ford, Terra Flare and Lance Petros. Ian, as always, was at the righthand of John, after Remy.

"So, you're the great Pyro?" one of the men crowed from the opposite end of the hangar.

"Yeah. And who're you?" John called back. The man smiled, and with a "bamf!" noise, disappeared in a cloud of wispy, swirling mauve smoke to reappear in front of John.

"I'm Stuart Matheson. I've got fifteen people in my troop. All of them are damned good at what they do." Stuart was tall and wiry, with windswept curly dark blond hair. He had a faint hint of an accent.

"Nice to meet you, Matheson," John ground out. He honestly hated social gatherings. He nodded for him to go and meet the rest of the line. "Come on up," he said to the remaining three newcomers. These fresh arrivals were whom Jensen had picked from all the teams across the country. Top of the line. Imposing status for such unimposing mutants.

"Ryan Havers," the other man introduced himself. He was well-built with dark hair and eyes. He reached out and shook John's hand, and changed before everyone's eyes. He took on John's form, matching him exactly. A shapeshifter, then. Very useful. John smirked, and sent Ryan on down the line. He looked up as the women stepped forward before him. One was dark skinned, with long blond hair, blue streaks mixed in, and baby blue eyes. The other was also dark skinned, with short black hair and dark brown eyes.

"Shasa Perry. I guess I'd be your opposite, Pyro," the blond woman said, conjuring a ball of water that floated over her hand. She smiled, looking up at him through her lashes. As soon as it was gone, she shook John's hand and moved on down the line.

"Erika Morgan. I can control minds," she said, obviously uncomfortable with the idea of demonstrating. She also shook John's hand and went on down the line. Once everyone had been introduced, John and Remy led them into a room where the two had set up a table with the help of the council. John took his place at the end of the table, standing, and spoke: "You all know why you're here. You're top of the line, and we've got a mission.

"Okay, we need a game plan for taking down Gearson. He's holding an anti-mutant rally two weeks from now in Washington. He's also going to be in a meeting with the president and U.S. officials over what to do about us three weeks from now. Any ideas?"

Shasa was the first to pipe up.

"The rally is all we have. There will be police there to be sure it doesn't turn violent, but at the meeting with the president, there's gonna be Secret Service. They're better equiped to take us than the police. Besides, they'll be expecting us at the meeting," she said. Several heads nodded around the table.

"Yeah. We'll set up a distraction. Like what we did at the press conference. Every mutant whose not part of the distraction goes after Gearson. All we need are some mutants who can distract the police and humans long enough. We could have one of our guys start a fight with one of the humans and use their powers," Ian said.

"Alright. And then some more of us can jump in. Not only are we overpowering the mortals, we're terrifying them. We'll be coming at them from out of nowhere, seemingly, and they won't know how many of us are out there." Ryan's eyes flashed as he spoke, engrossed in the planning.

"Okay. So, we need to come up with ways to communicate and then we need to split into teams. Each team has an objective. Okay... let's call the team going after Gearson Alpha Team since they're the top priority. Bravo's distraction. Who wants to take Alpha Team and who's gonna be in it?" John asked. Stuart raised his hand.

"I'd be willing to take up Alpha Team," he offered.

"Okay, then," John noted, nodding. "Volunteers? And Ian -- you're in Alpha."

"Yes, sir."

John barely kept from rolling his eyes, remembering he had to look in control here. "Jensen -- you're our look-out, kid. Tell us where the openings are. We need a good telepath for Bravo Team."

Stuart smiled, something about it wicked. "I've just the girl. Kimana Starshone."

"Alright. Kimana is with Bravo Team, Ian is with Alpha. Morgan -- you cool with leading Bravo?"

"I can."

"Good," John replied, refraining from the "You better," he wanted to reply with. "Alright. I'll hit with Alpha -- Remy, you take Bravo." When all was said and done, there were eight of the council on each team, leaving behind Evan and Sam. The next step was to gather the best of the recruits, maybe ten a team at most.

And then it was time to employ the tactic of "practice makes perfect".

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_(The lyric in the page break is from "Violence Fetish" by Disturbed.)_


	4. Chapter 3

Thanks **smearedliner** and **Time and Fate **for the reviews! They make our day!

kmf's stuff: She is so mean to me. Anyways, enjoy!

curt's crap: (I'm not a she!) Is Cajun really as hard as Davis says? ;-)

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_**Chapter Three**_

Only the best of the best's best were participating in the raid. As a whole, the Mutant Resistance's Elite under St John Allerdyce and Remy LeBeau (with the additions of Stuart, Shasa, Ryan and Erika's crews) was about 120 strong. On this mission, only twenty were on, excluding Jensen. The teams had practised rigorously for twelve days, once again having their outlined plan an artform. This time there would be no glitch that would undermine them. The supply of cure had been exhausted -- all the security Gearson would have would be equiped with bullets, tranqs and Tasers. They, the mutants, by all probability should have the advantage.

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"Remy."

The co-leader of the Mutant Resistance looked up as Marie entered his room. He was used to her coming in with little to no warning at all...more often than not she stayed in his room with him. Because, truth be told, as much as a loner as Rogue was, her unlikely saviours held special places in her heart. And with as out of her depth as she had been since being "cured" -- not to mention how uncertain and useless she had felt now, with the Mutant Resistance and being human -- Remy's presence was a big, welcomed comfort. They'd grown pretty close in the short weeks.

"Hey, _p'tite cherie._ What's goin' on?" He leaned back against the far wall, at the foot of his bed, crossing his arms and smiling at her. They were infectious, his smiles, and rather unexpectedly one tipped the corners of her mouth in response. But it quickly faded.

"Remy, I wanna go with y'all," she told him, taking a seat upon his bed -- the only seating available in the Spartan room. He raised one eyebrow, looking down at her, and went before her and knelt so they were eye-to-eye. At first, Remy's intense, unusual red irises had unnerved Marie to hell and gone. But she'd gotten used to them...like the man, they were a comfort, oddly. They had become rather "exotically beautiful" -- yes, "demonically beautiful" the back of her mind whispered -- to her. She met them straight on now. He pushed back a persistent fall of auburn hair from his face.

"Now, _ma chere_, you know you can't do dat jus' yet."

"Remy," Marie said sternly, staring at him. "Don't treat me as a child. I...I just wanna help, y'know? I wanna feel like I'm actually _worth_ a damn round here. I mean, all I do is sit around and look outta place."

"_Chere_..."

She glared. He smiled, consenting her point.

"Den get out dere wi' the others, _cherie._ Start practising and workin' wi' 'em, now. It's jus' dis is a big thing, _p'tite_. Dere can't be no compromisin' of dis."

Rogue frowned for a moment, considering. She blew out a sigh. "Okay. Start small, huh?"

"Dat's de idea."

"Fine, then. Okay."

"_P'tite,_ don' nobody have ya confined t' your room. You just haven't set out it yet."

He was right there. Damn him. "I get your point, Remy." To that he smiled genuinely, broadly.

"I take it you don' like bein' told where you wrong, eh?"

"No more than you, Gambit."

He nodded concurrence. "So, jus' remember dis, now, okay?" His voice was lower. "You are worth a damn, _ma chere._ I don' care if nobody else sees it. I do, now."

Remy rose to his feet. "I gotta go round up wi' the rest of my team. We'll be back soon, _cherie._" And with that he headed out, leaving Rogue with her new initiative and a warm glow. She _was_ at least wanted around by _someone._

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Jensen lay on the roof of a building overlooking the site where Adam Gearson was holding his rally, just looking over the parapet, high-powered binoculars braced upon it. A large crowd had already gathered. Jensen, along with being a telepath, could sense the teams down on the ground. Alpha was near the front of the stage, Bravo was around each side and toward the back.

Jensen adjusted the focus as he noticed movement from the side of the platform set up for Gearson.

_He's coming up, guys, _Jensen sent to Ian. A fledgling in his telepathic skills, that meant Jensen only sent well to someone he was attached to, which left John or Ian. And Ian, being telepathic himself, was more able to easily receive his message and then send it to Kimana on Bravo.

Gearson walked up and out onto the platform, his manner very stately.

_Ian, move the team up. Tell Kimana to get ready._

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_Kimana, he's coming up. Get ready. When I say go, have the team attack._ Ian telepathically told the younger mutant. He turned his attention over to John and Stuart.

"Jensen says he's heading up. Tell me when you want Bravo to move," he said to John, who nodded and turned to look at the stage. Gearson took the stage moments later.

_There's a mutant up there with him, Ian! I don't know what she can do, but she's definitely on his side. She's the youngest one on the stage,_ Ian heard Jensen say in his mind, the boy's shock evident. His head snapped up to look at the stage again and he realized there was a woman in her early twenties standing off to the side of the stage.

"John, she's a mutant," he said, pointing at the woman. John looked up and Ian could see a less than amused look cross his face.

"Stuart, have one of your guys take her out as soon as we get up there," he said, turning to look at the teleporter, who nodded in response. Turning to the man next to him, Trent, Stuart began quietly conversing with him, hands motioning to the woman on the stage every now and then. Meanwhile, Gearson had come to the middle of his speech. John turned to Ian.

"Now," he said.

_Alright, you all know what to do?_ he asked the people of Bravo team, linking himself to all their minds. He got the typical responses of 'yes' and 'of course', before turning his attention specifically to Remy and Erika and Kimana.

_You guys?_ he asked them.

_Of course, mon ami_, came Gambit's reply.

_No time like the present,_ Kimana sent back, loud and clear.

_Start a fight. This should be fun,_ Erika thought back. He smiled to himself.

_Alright, then. Do it now. __

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(The lyric in the page break is from "Violence Fetish" by Disturbed.)


	5. Chapter 4

Thanks **smearedliner** and **Time and Fate** for the reviews.

kmf's stuff: Yeah, come on people. Somebody tell us who our oc's are! Enjoy!

curt's crap: Hey, that plushie's still up for grabs..._

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_**Chapter Four**_

Kevin Ford surreptitiously moved through the crowd. He was wearing his nylon suit under a black pleather trench coat with a corset-laced back and studded lapels. He heard the broadcast telepathic command in his head. _Do it now._

He slipped off his black pleather gloves and touched someone's shoulder, holding on for a moment, as he pushed past them, not looking back.

The screams told him he had done his job.

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The man noticed his arm felt funny. Someone had brushed by him a second ago. He thought it was probably some psychosymatic reaction, a lingering memory. But that didn't explain how..._weird_...it felt. He looked down and over at his arm.

And let out a shrill scream.

His shirt sleeve was disintegrating and he was horrified to see that the flesh beneath it was rapidly decaying before his very eyes. Withering away.

"Oh, fuck! Oh, shit, man! My fuckin' arm! My fuckin' arm's gonna fall off! What the fuck? What the fuckin' hell? Oh, shit! Mutant! There's a fuckin' mutant around somewhere! _Fuck!_"

People turned to look, and gasped horrified, panic gripping them. The man's arm was being eaten away by nothing and he could not stop it. He watched as decaying flesh turned to ash and fell to the ground, a massive hole growing. He screamed more, and the panic spread and morphed into controlled chaos.

"Mutant! There's a mutant in the crowd!" they shouted. Security officers immediately dispersed into the crowd to locate where this crasher was and apprehend the mutant.

"It's him!" the man Kevin had touched screamed, singling him out. "In the black shit! It's him!" His arm was decayed all over and most of it had disentigrated. Kevin stopped in his tracks. He could feel and hear the cops approaching him from behind.

And then he felt the wind pick up.

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Terra Flare stood paces behind the rapidly disappearing man. She concentrated as she watched the security guards approach Kevin, her blue-black hair fanning round her tan face.

"Put your hands up!" they snapped at him, hands on their weapons.

_Let's watch your hands -- and you -- go up, _she thought, concentrating hard on making the air around the two cops swirl. Faster, faster, faster. And then they were lifting off the ground, being swirled round in their own personal whirlwind.

She cracked a crooked grin. _Start the Spin-cycle and then wring you out to die._ She looked over as more security flooded into the crowd. _That's right. Come on. _

The mortals were panicking, running round like chickens with their heads chopped off. Squealing, trying to find where the other mutants were -- for there couldn't be just one. Terra sent a gust of wind at two cops, lifting them up off their feet and blowing them back.

And then she heard the loud explosion as Remy tossed a card out towards the outer edges of the crowd, and a bright orange glow peppered with gray concrete and asphalt could be seen.

That was the signal for Alpha to strike.

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Trent Ryker had started moving the minute the strike was signalled. He was staring straight at his target and nothing else. John, Ian and Stuart had gone to the right of the stage, but he had walked straight to the front of the stage and hopped up, finding himself in the middle. Gearson didn't notice him. 

But the cop that stood to Gearson's right did. The man raised his gun and Trent brought his hands up to freeze him, but was a second too late. The officer fired and the bullet was lodged into his left shoulder.

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Rahne Sinclair had taken her werewolf form as the fighting started, and was darting through the crowd, making the commotion worse. As soon as the smell of Trent's blood hit the air, though, she took off towards the stage as fast as she could. She had gained enough control over her abilities to remember what she was supposed to do.

_Get any wounded person out of there, Rahne, _was what John and Ian had told her to do after the meeting. Leaping onto the stage, she growled at the advancing police officer, before John sent a ball of fire that stopped him in his tracks. Once he was out of the way, she nudged the unconscious Trent onto her back and darted through the crowd, taking him to safety.

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The moment Trent had been shot, the female mutant had teleported to Gearson's side. It wasn't until the three men had made their way from the right side of the stage to where Gearson stood that she grabbed his arm. Ian threw himself forwards just in time, and caught Gearson's arm as the two teleported out, taking him with them.

"Shit! Let's go!" John shouted as soon as the three disappeared, turning to look at Stuart. The other man nodded and grabbed John's arm, before teleporting them right outside the crowd. Security was closing in on Bravo, so John flicked on his lighter and shot flames at the officers, successfully finishing them off. Rahne was at his side in human form seconds later.

"You an' Stuart need tae come. We have tae get Trent back to the base. He's hurt bad an' needs immediate care," she said, her Scottish burr even more pronounced in her anxiety. John nodded and motioned to Stuart, who followed as they rushed to the place where Rahne had laid the bleeding mutant. She was right, he was hurt bad. Rahne clutched tightly to Stuart's arm as the teleporter grabbed the arms of John and Trent. Seconds later they had teleported half way back to base. He stopped for a quick second, not being able to teleport as far as he wished he could.

Then they were at the base and John looked up at the crowd that was slowly gathering before yelling, "We need medical supplies and a doctor in here. NOW!"_

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(The lyric in the page break is from "Violence Fetish" by Disturbed.)


	6. Chapter 5

Thanks to **Hiril Moon, **even though your review was for the first story! Hopefully you'll enjoy this sequel and following stories as well!

kmf's stuff: Yay! We updated! Enjoy!

curt's crap: holy shite...a chap in less than a week!

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_**Chapter Five**_

"Remy!" Marie spotted him, in his worn leather duster and the black bandana pushing back his hair, as he came in with the rest of the strike team. He looked up, surprised. Marie wasn't in his room. She was out and about with everybody else. He smiled. Maybe he should give advice more often. But now wasn't exactly the time to talk...John, Stuart and Rahne had bolted out with Trent and he needed to see what the hell was up. Unfortunately, Marie was running towards him already.

Marie ran up and threw her arms round him, hugging him tightly. "I did like you said, Remy. I came out and helped out. They got me patchin' up things -- clothes, props, people. It feels good to be a part of something."

Remy stepped back from her and tilted her chin up with a knuckle so he looked into her emerald eyes. "See, now? I done told ya it'd make ya feel better."

Marie stood up on tip-toe and kissed his rough cheek. "Thank you. For believing in me." She stepped back, now looking down shyly, the white section of hair to the right side of her part falling in front of her face. She pushed it back. "Back before I ended up with y'all...I had wanted to fit in. To be able to do stuff like...like 'normal' people could. Hell, like other mutants could... John's got a bone about me bein' 'human', but I ain't never been nothin' but a mutant most of my life. It's just...I was...I was diff'rent..." She shook her head. She liked Remy, but she was still uncertain of divulging her history.

"Talk about it later, _ma p'tite_?" he asked, looking round to pinpoint the direction the teams had headed off in while he talked to her.

Later. That sounded oddly pleasing. "Okay."

"Alright, den. Later. I gotta find out what's up wi' John and all."

"Oh, him and the two Brits...I didn't catch names, but one's a girl...they done ran off t' the Infirmary. They brought somebody back. He's hurt bad -- had longish straight black hair --"

"Thanks, _p'tite._" With nothing more, Remy ran back to the Infirmary to see if John was still there.

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John was sitting outside of the Infirmary with Rahne and Stuart, head in his hands. They had been there for a long time, wondering if the young mutant was going to be okay or not. In fact, it had been so long he didn't know what time or day it was. His head snapped up as a door opened and he saw Remy walking over to him from the entrance of the waiting room.

"How is he, _mon ami_?" he asked as he came to stand in front of John, who dropped his head back into his hands.

"We don't know. He was hurt bad. They're not telling us anything yet," his muffled voice said.

"So what the hell's goin' on, den? Where's Ian?" Remy asked him. John's head snapped up again, and he looked as though he'd forgotten about Ian until that moment.

"Oh, shit! I completely forgot. He caught Gearson's arm as his little pet teleported out with him. We have to find him!" he stated, jumping to his feet and turning to Stuart, "Come and find me if they know anything or if he wakes up. Rahne, we gotta get the council together."

Rahne stood and followed the two leaders from the room. Ten minutes later they had gathered the eight remaining members of the council, as well as Ryan, Erika and Shasa.

"Ian's been captured. We have to focus everyone on finding him and getting him back. We also need to try and find a new base. If they get any information out of him -- and I'm not doubting Ian; I'm just being cautious -- then they'll find out not only where we are, but they could find out anything else. We can't leave him out there after he risked himself to stop Gearson. He deserves that much," John said.

"I'll go sniff aroond, see if I can find a humanless place big enough for our army," Rahne said, taking her complete wolf form and running from the room. Ryan spoke up next.

"I'll get my team together and start searching some of Gearson's corporation buildings," he offered.

"Sounds like a plan," John concurred. "Do it then. Dismissed."

The council filed out, John and Remy the last to leave. As they were exiting the room, Rogue ran up.

"Remy! John!"

"What do you want?" John snapped, his frazzled nerves making him short-tempered. Marie flinched, and Remy touched her bare arm, which she instinctively wanted to flinch from as well, remembering what simple touches like that in the past could have wrought, but did not, realising that she was truly human. And that was what she wanted to address.

"I -- I done heard y'all in there. Ryan's gonna go to Gearson's, huh?"

"Yeah," John muttered, turning to walk off towards his room. His mind was stretched beyond breaking and he needed awhile to take it all in.

"Send me instead."

Rogue's quiet, soft voice stopped him in his tracks. He whirled around. "What the hell are you on about?"

"John, I'm human. I _do not_ have my mutant powers anymore. At all. _I'm not a mutant. _Send me," she entreated yet again, her emerald eyes hurt, but determined.

John glared at her, still not able to wrap his mind round it.

Remy caught on, finally. "She sayin' dat she ain't as big of a risk if you send her in, _homme. _She ain't...she ain't got mutant powers" -- he opted over saying she wasn't a mutant, for he saw the realisation hurt her -- "and that way Gearson won't be so suspicious a her."

John blinked, and then crossed his arms, thoughtful and grudging. "Alright," he conceded. "You've got a good point."

"I'm not useless, John. And I wanna show that I'm not."

"Alright, then," he sighed. "Get ready. I'll send you out with...Erika and Ryan...and Kimana. They'll be the most formidable for us to deploy on this. Kimana may be able to connect with Ian and that'd help you guys lock on to him..."

"The less the better, John."

"Dammit, Rogue!" he snapped. "Fine. Fine. You and Erika. There. Erika can help you get in easier." John left, all he wanted to say on the matter said for now.

"Thanks, John!" Marie called after him. Remy just shook his head and smiled. He took Marie's arm.

"Come on, _ma p'tite._ You gotta get ready, eh?"

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_(The lyric in the page break is from "Violence Fetish" by Disturbed.)_


	7. Chapter 6

Thanks **nightgoddes **and **Time and Fate** for the reviews!

kmf's stuff: Enjoy! Thanks for reviewing!

curt's crap: (excuse the Obi-Wan Kenobi-ness at the beginning...;-) _

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_**Chapter Six**_

Ian groaned as he came to. Slowly his vision came into focus, fading from black, to fuzzy grey, to blurred brightness...finally sharpening to reveal he was alone in a cell. He sat in a metal chair in the centre of the area, bound to it at chest, ankles and wrists by cable ties. There didn't appear to be any doors nor mirrors, one-way or otherwise.

Before his eyes, a woman appeared in a cloud of mauvish-grey smoke.

"Hello, there. You're awake."

"What's it to you?" Ian spat. He was groggy, but he didn't know why.

The mutant woman walked around the chair, _tsk_ing. "Ah, this is a one-way conversation -- a term I'm sure a man of your apparent background will understand."

"You expect me to listen to you?"

The strong backhand surprised him.

"No, I expect you to _talk_."

The term 'if looks could kill' came to the mutant womans mind as she stopped in front of him, smiling at the glare he gave her.

"Well, you're going to be very disappointed," he said, before shutting his mouth and setting his face in a stone cold expression that he'd learned during his years as a military man. Just like his father had been a Navy SEAL, he himself was an ex-Delta Force Army Ranger. He was an elite man. And he would be damned if she would get a word out of him.

Her fist connected with his face moments later. The taste of blood in his mouth prompted him to spit at her feet, which earned him a kick in the stomach. The chair stayed put.

"Are you gonna talk or do I have to keep hitting you until you do?" she asked, glancing up into a corner of the room. He mirrored her move and glanced up, spotting a camera. A smirk crept onto his face, but he didn't say a word to her.

"So, it's gonna be like that?" she asked. The room was silent as the two stared at each other, and then her foot hit the side of his face. He shook his head and looked back up at her. She had turned to the camera moments before.

"He's not gonna talk. What should I do?" she asked. A voice filled the room seconds later.

"_Bring me in._"

Ian recognized the voice, but the grogginess overpowered his ability to place a face with it. The woman disappeared again and reappeared with Gearson at her side.

"Good evening, there."

"Go fuck yourself," Ian spat, wincing as the act of talking split his lip further.

Adam Gearson smiled, sadly shaking his head. "Such a coarse greeting when I was only trying to be a cordial host," he said, almost laughingly as the teleported threw her vicious right hook at Ian's jaw. He met the blow full, not bothering to turn his head to soften the impact. His head snapped back and to the side with it. Once again, he spat blood, considering Gearson before hocking it to the side.

"Cordial," Ian scoffed. "Your…pet…needs to know that."

"She's not…programmed, shall we say? to be…cordial. But she does her job fairly well."

"Fuckhead," Ian muttered.

Gearson hunched before the captive mutant. He was bruised and bloodied, yet still remained unbroken. Not unremarkable, given his appearance, which told of a previous military career. There was definitely an air of power about him, but it was in _strength_, not command. He was used to receiving orders and executing them efficiently and proficiently. A trusted man. Possibly Allerdyce's top man.

What a fortuitous prize they had stumbled upon.

"Let me show you a little trick that I learned some time ago," Gearson said, his silky voice a purr. Ian cringed. The human pulled out a gold pocket watch, old, but polished to a gleam, from the breast-pocket on the inside of his suit jacket. He popped it open with a flick of his thumb. He gazed down upon it for a brief moment, almost fondly, before clicking the lid down, then letting it up, like it was a castanet.

"This was a gift from my father. Been in the family for almost 200 years." Gearson brought his keen hazel eyes back up to Ian's face. They lighted on a thin shot-bead necklace round his neck tucked into his white T-shirt. Gearson slipped a finger beneath the exposed chain, revealing the weight upon it. Dog tags. Gearson examined them. They were beaten up, old. So, not the mutant before him's own tags. "THOMPSON I, IAN " was stamped into them.

"Ah, a gift from your father, then…_Ian_?"

Ian worked his jaw. Rage was boiling beneath the surface and he was working hard to keep it in check.

"I could throw you across this fucking room with a thought," he warned between clenched teeth.

"And then Myra here would have to kill you."

"So what?"

"I would rather she not."

"Then get your damned hands off of me."

Gearson let the tags slip from his fingers and stood tall. The tags clanked together as they impacted with Ian's chest. He closed his eyes, relieved. The tags were all he had left of his family.

"I still haven't shown you my trick," Gearson said, with a schoolboy's insistence, the _click _as he closed the watch punctuating his sentence. Ian humoured him, grudgingly. Gearson dangled the watch between them, before Ian's face, the heavy face dangling from its gilded chain. The watch swung lazily.

"It's a bit…unoriginal, I'm afraid," Gearson said, "but take it as a tribute to old school." He was quiet after that. The room was silent save for the sodt breathing of Gearson and his "assistant" and Ian's own laboured breaths.

"What the hell's the trick?" Ian asked after a moment, raising his eyes to look at Gearson.

"Just watch," Gearson informed him casually. "You'll be surprised."

Still humouring the human -- whom Ian had decided was a bit more glamorised to the public eye than he really was (meaning he wasn't as bright of the genius everyone declared him to be) -- Ian took advantage of the apparent reprieve and watched the pocket watch continue its hypnotic sway.

Which was exactly what Gearson was going for. Of course, hypnosis was neither a proven nor scientific art -- but it most assuredly had its uses. Especially when practised as diligently to the level of almost-mastery, as Gearson had.

Moments passed, Ian falling into the trap, descending into a stunned stupor. Perhaps five minutes later, Gearson waved his free hand before Ian's face. The mutant didn't blink.

As he hunched back down before Ian, Gearson entertained the thought of what if he himself had been a mutant -- a telepath, as Ian had hinted he was. Gearson knew from his studies that telepathy often accompanied telekinesis. Both were base mental abilities -- ones humans themselves could access if they possessed enough will. Gearson, back when he had been a typical disgruntled teenager, had researched and tried to for a spell, but came to decide that science was more suited to him. It certainly would have added a new twist, though.

"Ian," he said, silken voice low. "Nod if you can hear me."

A slight incline of the head. Good.

"Now, Ian. Listen -- and listen closely." Though he didn't know if it would work, Gearson tried to project his words in his thoughts. Make a doubly intense subconscious imprint.

And here he outlined his brilliant plan that had sprung forth in his mind as soon as he had realised he had one of Allerdyce's men in his clutches. It was quite beautifully simple, really: "Listen closely to _everything_ St John Allerdyce says. Keep it in your mind -- stow it away. When you see me before the press again, I will say, '_Mutants are not Immortal._' Upon hearing this, _you will return to me._ By any means you can. On the count of five, you will come to and remember nothing that has just transpired. _One…two…three…four…_five."

Ian blinked and shook his head. He glared at Gearson, who looking glum as he pulled his watch back into his hand by the chain.

"So, forgot your trick?"

"It's not a perfected art," Gearson shrugged. "Myra, cut him loose. He's of no use."

Myra nodded curtly and complied, going to the task of severing the cable ties. When the last one -- the one across his chest -- popped free as Myra cut through it from behind him, Ian surged to his feet…

…Only to feel something hard impact with the back of his head and fall out to the cold metal floor, unconscious. He didn't feel the needle Myra jabbed unfeelingly into the side of his neck, injecting him with a drug that would keep him under for a fair while.

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"You forgot to ask him where they were," Myra said -- not accusingly, but unemotionally, as the cab, driver liberally paid to drive to the outskirts of the district and Ian unconscious in the back seat, drove off into the afternoon.

"Oh, no, Myra. I don't forget. I calculate. I wanna play with them a bit."

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_(The lyric in the page break is from "Violence Fetish" by Disturbed.)_


	8. Chapter 7

Wow, it's been a while. So, thanks to **Time and Fate **for the review. Sorry it took so long.

kmf's stuff: Hey guys. Again, sorry, and thanks to anyone who stuck with us and waited patiently for this chapter. I had vacation and then school and things are just really crazy. Not as crazy as things with Curt, but crazy all the same. Anyways, without further ado...

curt's crap: yeah, life's shite. oh well. and evidently my computer and FF . net aren't getting along...and the ruler button isn't working. wtc?

hey! -- props to Davis for now learning the art of uploading documents : D

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"Aw, hell," Rogue groaned, her Southern drawl coming through full-force. She was going through the duffel Remy had packed for them before the crew had moved out here. Mostly odds and ends of clothing he'd plucked off clotheslines.

"What,_ cherie?_" Remy asked from where he was lounging out on his bed, twirling a playing card. Queen of Hearts.

"I -- I ain't never worn clothes like this..." she muttered, voice trailing off. Once -- it seemed a lifetime ago -- she had actually worn T-shirts every now and then. Hell, she'd lived in Mississippi -- she would have died in the heat if she had worn the clothing she had discovered she needed to wear: clothes that covered all exposed skin. After coming to Xavier's Institute, she had still worn short sleeves every now and again, but Bobby had given her long lace gloves. And then that relationship had been shot to hell, between her being human and Kitty Pryde. So she had donned her cloak and gathered her long sleeved shirts and assorted pairs of gloves -- but not the ones Bobby had given her, and ran.

She held up a shirt and looked at it in a mix of longing and dismay. She could wear this now. And not worry. At all. And it seemed Remy had decided she needed as many shirts like it as he could find. A cropped babydoll T-shirt, a tanktop...more things she didn't even know what to call -- but they looked nice...

Finally she came across something she liked. A black T-shirt with a punky print in black, white and red across the front and three-quarter-length fishnet sleeves. She didn't know that Remy was watching everything she did from over her shoulder.

"Like dat one, eh, _p'tite?_"

She jumped, dropping the shirt. "Dammit, Remy." She pushed back a fall of hair from her face...wondering yet again what she was going to do about her stripes. "And yes, I do like the shirt. But, Remy...I'm goin' into a corporation, honey. I gotta look the part."

Remy had gotten up from the bed and walked over, squatting down beside her. "Well, _ma chere,_ I wasn't really thinkin' 'bout no stuffy corporation when I's gettin' you some clothes...I's thinkin' more 'bout what'd look good on ya, and ya'd like t' wear." He flashed his rakish grin, and Marie blushed. She caught his gaze and just looked at his eyes for a moment

"Well..." she said after the moment had passed, "I need something 'stuffy'. Or else they won't let me in, honey."

He tried hard not to let the smile the endearment brought to him show. "Alright, den. Let's go askin' round. I'm sure one a de doctor chicks done got some stuffy clothes." He got up and headed to the door. Marie was still looking over the items he had gotten for her.

"C'mon, _cherie._ I ain't gon' go askin' for girl clothes all on my lonesome. And I still wanna see those." He winked, and walked out the door. Marie ducked her head, hiding a bright crimson blush and a smile. Damn him, but he had her hooked.

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"All right, _p'tite._ You look right sharp." Marie had borrowed a dress suit from Naomi, one of the doctors of the Resistance. It was a navy skirt and jacket with a maroon dress blouse. Her stripes were still vivid white in her hair -- they wouldn't take to dye (she knew from previous experience, despite her -- true -- words to Logan that she had kinda liked 'em) -- so she would confront that when or if it rose as an issue. She looked down at herself in the suit, pushing back her hair from her face and curling it behind her ear. She had never felt more out of place. She smiled at Remy's words, though.

"That's something I haven't heard in a long time," she said quietly, thinking about her family.

"Huh?"

Her head snapped up. "Hell, I -- I said I'd tell you 'bout my past, didn't I?"

"Well, _cherie, _you actually tried to tell me and I told you tell me later."

Marie nodded. Remy patted the open spot on the bed next to where he sat. "Come on over and we'll chat about it, eh?" Marie complied. Remy put an arm round her.

"So, _ma chere. _What was it you wanted t' talk 'bout? You's talkin' 'bout how somethin' was diff'rent for ya awhile back..."

"Yeah. When you touched my arm. It made me remember 'bout before I met you...back when I still had my powers. John knows about them. My...my powers -- I...I like, sucked the energy outta people. Put my first boyfriend in a coma with a kiss. That's when I ran away from home."

"Hmm. You said you'd run away from somethin' recently."

"Oh. That. My...my boyfriend. All I wanted was..." She hadn't told anyone. She had kept it locked inside and had run. "All I wanted was for us to have a normal relationship. 'Cos -- I mean...you just can't have a normal relationship when you can't _touch._ And that was all I -- all I wanted. I wanted to be able to do things like ev'rybody else. Is that so wrong?" Marie couldn't help the tears that were forming in her green eyes, overflowing and slipping down her cheeks. She was so wrapped up in her pain that she had refreshed that she barely noticed Remy holding her closer, hugging her to him.

"Nah, _bebé._Ain't nothin' wrong wi' that at all," he assured her quitely, brushing her hair back from her face, which she still had hidden behind her hands.

"But Bobby...Bobby didn't...he didn't see it like that. He -- he said that I had _given in._ He -- he said that I had been selfish. That he couldn't understand why I'd ever -- _ever_ take the cure. He...he broke my heart and crushed me. And I did it all for _him._ I mean, I know it helped me...helped me get what I'd wished for for so long...but -- but it was _him _I had thought a first. I just..."

"Shh, shh, _p'tite_," Remy comforted as she broke into sobs. "I can understand why you did it, _chere._"

Marie just kept crying, trying desperately to stop and at the same time realising that it was the last thing she wanted to do and that she didn't think she could. Finally, after some time, she had quieted to hiccups.

"I -- I just didn't want to be so _diff'rent._ But I didn't know that tryin' to not be so diff'rent would make me so...despised."

"Well, _p'tite._ There's people like that wherever ya go. You change to fit in wi' them, and ya're still not accepted. I'll tell ya this though: I don't think no diff'rent a ya."

Rogue snorted. "You didn't know me before, Remy."

"Alright. Ya got me there. But I know ya now, an' I don't think no diff'rent a ya for not havin' your powers. You're still one a us."

"Thank you." His words warmed her, and made her snicker, just a bit. She sniffed.

"There, _p'tite. _You better, now? 'Cos I'm all wet. Don't reckon a pretty girl's breakdown counts as a shower, _non?_"

Marie swatted at his chest. "Damn you, Remy LeBeau." She smiled, getting to her feet. "Well, at least it's all on you and not on me. I gotta leave."

"Glad to be there for ya t' cry on so ya don't mess up your smart clothes."

Marie rolled her eyes and went to grab the suitcase she had also been supplied with. Remy was right behind her as she turned around. She looked up, meeting his red and black eyes, and was still completely taken by surprise as he kissed her.

"T' remember me by," he said, winking. She touched her lips in semi-shock.

"Oh."

"C'mon, _p'tite._ We gotta get ya out there t' Erika and Stuart. Ya've gotta bring us Ian back." He offered her his hand, which she took and they walked out of the room towards the open area of the hangar. Before they reached it, Remy turned to her.

"Ya're worth a lot, _ma chere._ Now show John he's wrong wi' whatever grudge he done got against ya."

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Marie and Erika had checked in and left several hours before, so when John heard excited voices in the main hangar he knew that couldn't have been the reason. Leaving what had come to be known as 'the conference room' by the council, he found a huge group of people gathering around someone. Pushing his way through, he was met with the sight of a certain six-foot something, blue-eyed telepath.

"Ian?" he asked. Ian looked over at him and smiled, bruised and bloody, but still standing.

"Of course. Didn't think I'd die that easily, did you?" he joked. John smirked and looked around at Ian's audience.

"Alright everyone, there's nothing to see here. Give the man some air. Go back to whatever you were doing!" he barked at everyone. As soon as they were alone John motioned for Ian to follow him and then led him to the conference room.

"What happened?" he asked. Ian shrugged.

"They tried to get me to talk. I wouldn't. I don't really remember much." he admitted. John nodded and leaned both hands on the table, looking down at the papers littered on it.

"I hope you understand this, but I'm gonna have to get Kimana to search your mind. I just want to be sure you're who you appear to be and that you haven't told them anything. If that's alright with you?" he asked, looking up at Ian, who nodded.

"Yes, sir. I understand. It's fine."

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_(The lyric in the page break is from "Violence Fetish" by Disturbed.)_


	9. Chapter 8

Thank you **Time and Fate** and **LostPhan3** for the reviews.

kmf's stuff: sorry, guys. been a little distracted with school. thanks if you're still reading our fic.

curt's crap: yeah, all angry reviews, aim at me. thanks to all who've stuck in.

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_**Chapter Eight**_

"It's good to have you back, Ian," Kimana said as he walked into the small room, John behind him. Kimana sat cross-legged on her bed in the room she shared with Jubilee, the doctor Naomi, Terra Flare and a couple others. Her silken, board-straight blue-black hair flowed freely across her shoulders, like a sapphire-highlighted waterfall of onyx. Earrings in the fashion of dreamcatchers dangled from her ears. There was a single stud in her nose, the silver contrasting sharply with her bronze skin. She was wearing mocassins, Ian noted abstractly.

"Good to be back," he replied. He stood at the foot of her bed, standing stock-still as he had been taught as a child, awaiting instructions.

She nodded her head. "Come sit down on the bed. Face me." He complied. John leaned back against the wall, just an observer.

"Okay," Kimana breathed, as much to calm herself as for Ian. Going through someone's mind was never an easy business. It was pointless if the person wasn't relaxed -- their mind was too alert, too skittish. Relaxed, and trusted, the mind was open for perusal...save for that which the mind of the person didn't wish to revisit. Those little blocks were, quite simply, a bitch. They could be moderately simple to take down -- again, as long as the person's mind was cool with it. Then again, she could take down a wall only to have it build straight back up in her face. And then other times, there were the really fun ones -- the ones that didn't budge at all. She flashed Ian a reassuring grin. "You trust me, big guy?"

"You're an okay kid, I'll give you that."

"So what do you say to tomahawk throwing lessons?"

"Why?"

"Reward for both of us. It's something other than..._this_ that I'm good at. I get to do something fun, you get to learn something new as my way of saying thanks for letting me rifle through your head for a minute."

Ian chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "If it makes you feel better, Ki. I just wanna know that I'm not a living threat to us here."

"Precautions, y'know. Okay. Now, relax and blank your mind completely. Close your eyes if you want," Kimana instructed. Her small, calloused hands held his head, palms pressed firmly over each temple. He met her tawny eyes before she closed them in concentration. He closed his own to better keep his mind completely blank.

John watched from the sidelines. It was nothing remarkable, really. Kimana started to frown though, soon in. The frown only deepened until she dropped her hands and sat back ten minutes later. She was quick to change her expression to an unconcerned one when Ian opened his eyes.

"How'd it go? Didn't get lost, I hope." His eyes smiled with his mouth.

Kimana shook her head, masking whatever had perturbed her. "It's very orderly, military brat," she said, jokingly. "All cool. You might wanna go and think on some stuff though, man. You've got some titanium shields up."

Ian's expression darkened. "I'm sure you do, too."

"I know that I do, hon. But I can take mine down and face them. I know that they're there. Do you?"

Ian bit the inside of his lip, lightly. What was one more minor pain? "Got me," he muttered.

Kimana hugged him. "Tomahawk lessons start tomorrow at two."

"You act like you're older than me, kid."

"I'd never presume to."

Ian eyed her. "Sure, Ki. You're too sharp, kid."

"A gift like ours grants us wisdom beyond our years -- just like our lives have as well."

Ian smiled. "Alright, Obi-Wan. I'm getting outta here. I got a headache from you messin' round in there and trying to go all mage on me."

"Always a pleasure. Mystic Kimana at your service," she joked back with a broad grin. Ian rolled his eyes and headed out the door. As soon as he was out of sight, Kimana looked over at John, her troubled expression returning.

John shut the door to her room before walking over. "What is it?" he asked, stopping beside her bed, arms folded across his chest.

"Well, nothing. I didn't pick up anything. Some chick had punched him round -- the teleporter girl of Gearson's. That was about it. He didn't talk. But John. There's a lot of gaps and holes in his memories. Not because their lost or anything, but he's blocked out a lot. Between the blocks and his mind pushing me back when I got too close to one, I can't tell if there's something hidden or not. But I don't think there was. At least, I didn't pick up on it, but then again, the walls..."

"Yeah." John sighed. "So he was interrogated like he said. He said it was kinda blurry for him from there."

"I just caught the chick trying to make him talk and him not. Gearson saying he was of no use. That's it. So, I'd conclude he's safe."

"I never thought he wasn't."

"Well, your feelings have been confirmed partially. You still need to watch out in case that little gap turns out to be a big problem. At any rate, I'd still say he's safe. You got your top man back, and I have a student. Yay." Kimana rubbed her forehead. "Tell the rest of your crew to watch their asses and stop doing you favours. Going through people's heads wipes me out."

John nodded with a slight smile. He headed to the door. "Thanks, Kimana."

"No prob."

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They appeared just outside the large wrought-iron gates of Gearson's coroporation, Iridescent. The name was soldered to the gated in six-foot tall letters of steel that gleamed in the light like an oil slick. Iridescent.

"Alright, darlings. One more jump to the inside, and then I leave you two," Stuart announced. Rogue looked at him, breath caught in a sudden, intense attack of fear. Erika laid a comforting hand on her arm.

"It's okay." Erika flashed a small, wavering smile. "I'm nervous, too, but we can't let this control us. We've got to find Ian."

Marie liked Erika. She had a lot in common with her. It was quite evident that Erika's gift unnerved her, as Marie's had her. Marie flashed an equally feeble grin. "No problem, huh?"

"Yeah," Erika nodded. "No problem."

"Alright, loves..." Stuart took both their hands and with a bamf! they had disappeared from their spot in a puff of mauvish blue smoke.

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_(The lyric in the page break is from "Violence Fetish" by Disturbed.)_


	10. Chapter 9

Thanks for reading!

kmf's stuff: yeah, it's just been one of those days for curt. poor John, though; he just seems in an exceptionally bad mood today. wonder what got it started, -cough-curt-cough-. lol. neways, enjoy. and review! (p.s.I'm a woman, so no, **we have nothing against woman.**)

curt's crap: yeah, when you fail to spell your EMAIL correctly five times in a row, you need sleep. how the hell did i type my part of this? (my...snarky side becomes evident when i don't get sleep...)

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_**Chapter Nine**_

The inner sanctum of Iridescent Corporation was gleaming. The metallic halls reminded Marie a lot of the lower levels of the Xavier Institute. But that was her old life. This was the here and now. They walked briskly down the hall -- Stuart had teleported out almost as soon as they had touched the polished floor. The reception area was at the centre of the building, and Stuart had teleported them in at the right wing. Now, all they had to do was ask to apply, have Erika do her little bit of mind-bending and then fall into Gearson's fold. When they laid it out like that, it didn't seem too imposing at all... Well, not _that_ imposing, anyway.

Marie glanced over at Erika. She looked rather blank; Marie supposed she was clearing her mind -- she would definitely need that focus.

With a sigh to focus herself, Marie looked straight again ahead, back straight, presence businesslike and dignified (how she pulled that, she had yet to find out). The click of their heels rang and reverberated about her.

-------------

"Fuck. How're we gonna get 'em back, Kimana?" John was pacing like a trapped tiger. "There's no fucking initiative now. Marie just was there to get Ian and maybe information along the way."

"Worry not, O Great Leader," Kimana said, an arm draped over her eyes as she leaned back in one of the salvaged chairs in the Council Room. "I've got it."

"How?" John snapped.

"Ooh, you pyros are short-tempered. Mother was right to tell me not to play with you." She smirked. "Great Spirit allows me all sorts of communication."

"Quit bullshitting, Ki. Do you have this or not?"

"Let's say I have connections. Now, go grill something; you're one: bringing bad energy in here, and two: screwing my concentration."

John stalked to the far side of the room, muttering under his breath about "damned tree-hugging, pot-toking 'spirit-talkers' ". Kimana just shook her head and smiled.

"My name's Shoshone, but I'm Cherokee if you want to know, Firehead."

"Whatever."

Kimana closed her eyes, cleared her mind and pushed aside the tedious, dull pain of her headache. She focused on her newest object of attention.

_Stuart, you still out there, English?_

-------------

Stuart heard the voice in his head. He'd heard it quite a bit now and again of late in more quiet times.

That little Indian girl: Kimana. He smiled. He wasn't sure if it'd work, but he thought hard back at her. _Just about to leave, darling._

_Ah, very good for an amatuer. But no, "sweetheart", I need to advise against that. In fact, I need you to do just the opposite: go get Marie and Erika back. Don't get caught._

_Whyever for?_

_Because Ian is at the base. He's not there. Now bring them back, _tsutla_, okay?_

_And what in bloody hell is that?_

_A fox, you cheeky, sly bastard. Now go!_

"Bloody hell," Stuart sighed, looking to the sky. "Women. And can't anything ever go _orderly _in war?"

And with a bamf! he was gone again.

-------------

"Come with me, lovelies..." Stuart said as he ushered them to a half-hidden alcove on the way to Gearson's personal secretary's office. Both of them would have screamed had he not spoke as he took their arms.

"What the hell?" Marie said, Southern drawl pronounced.

"Ian's a good little chicken save home at the roost. Now we need to be, too." _Bamf!_

-------------

She'd cornered him as he'd left Kimana in the council room. He had barely made it two steps before she spotted him and ran over, smiling from ear to ear. Personally, John didn't see what there was to smile about, but Shasa always seemed strange when he was around her anyways.

"John, I'm glad I caught you. Can I ask you a favor?" she asked him. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, a dangerous glint in them.

"What?" he snapped, obviously in a bad mood. He just really wanted to go check on Trent's condition.

"Can you help me train? I wanna test my powers against fire," she explained, batting her eyelashes at him. He frowned. _Was she flirting with him?_ He shook his head, not really wanting the answer to that question.

"No, I can't. I really don't have time for it. I need to go check on Trent anyways, and the council's gotta meet when Stuart brings the girls home," he muttered, mostly to himself, though he knew Shasa heard it by the look of hurt in her eyes.

"So... is that a maybe?" she asked, her face suddenly lit with hope. He looked flat out confused.

"Did I say anything to make you think I would ever train with you?" he asked. Her smiled broadened and she squealed, jumping up and throwing her arms around his neck. Giving him a kiss on the cheek, she dropped to the ground and turned to run off.

"Thanks, so much, John," she said over her shoulder as she ran over to where her friends stood, leaving John dumbfounded. With a shrug, he walked off, muttering something about 'damned deranged women' and how they always seemed to make something out of nothing.

_----------------------------------_

_(The lyric in the page break is from "Violence Fetish" by Disturbed.)_


	11. Chapter 10

Well, we're trying to end this one quick.

kmf's stuff: yep. we want it over with. so if you were a fan of our first one, look for the next story. it should be out soon and better than this 1 was. and despite it bein a romantic interlude, its still gonna have action. think of our next story as a romantic building block of sorts.

curt's crap: shite, i have no clue what's happened in the last two chapters...

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_-----b-r-i-n-g---t-h-e---v-i-o-l-e-n-c-e-----_

_**Chapter Ten**_

"John, you said to come find you if anything happened with Trent and they had to move him. He's bleeding out and they can't stop it," Stuart said so fast John almost missed it, as he teleported in front of the pyro, who happened to still be muttering about deranged women at the time. Immediately, he stopped walking and stared at the other mutant. Stuart reached out and grabbed his arm. With a _'bamf!'_ they disappeared from the previous hallway they'd stood in and reappeared in the Infirmary.

The place was in an uproar, doctors rushing around, trying to find supplies they knew they didn't have. Trent was convulsing on the bed in which they'd moved him to, eyes wide open in a pained and shocked expression, chocking noises coming from him every now and then. The blood had gotten everywhere.

"What happened?" John demanded. The doctors went about their way, ignoring him as they tried to help Trent. It continued that way, with him convulsing and the doctors running around, for a good five minutes before Trent suddenly went limp and silent. His eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling. There was no doubt in anyone's mind: He was dead. No one could bring themselves to move, until finally, one of the doctors walked over to John and grabbed his arm, leading him from the room and into the waiting area. He vaguely recognised her to be Naomi.

"He was stable. We tried moving him. We lifted the bed sheets under him, but when we laid him on the bed, he was already bleeding. We thought it was safe to move him into recuperation. There's another patient coming in who needed the intensive care side of the room -- someone's powers backfired on them. There was nothing we could do. We weren't even equiped right to try. I'm very sorry."

-------------

"Why'd you call a meeting, John?" Erika asked as he entered the room. He looked around the room and found Marie sitting next to Remy. Puzzled that he'd brought her to a meeting, he dropped heavily into a chair, wanting nothing more than to be sick. Those who looked at him could see it, too, in the paleness of his skin and the look in his eyes.

"Trent died," he said, his voice quiet and resigned, as though he felt it were all his fault. The room fell silent. No one had anything to say.

-------------

They stood in the spot not far from where Ian had stopped travelling, looking out over the space between them and the mutants they knew waited for them. Gearson stood in front of everyone, encouraging them for the fight to come. There were maybe three hundred soldiers ready to fight the mutants or die.

"It's time for us to bring the fight to them. They've come to us twice. It's time we attack at the center of their union. The very base of their leader. They won't see this coming. That will give us the advantage this time. Now, gather your weapons. It's time to fight!" he shouted over the army, who errupted into cheers as he finished. They were sure, it was the day they were going to take down the resistance for good and force the mutants to be a part of society.

-------------

No one knew they were coming until Rhane sniffed them out. She immediately ran to the hallway where John and Remy slept. Pounding on both doors frantically, she sniffed the air again and realized they were much closer than before. She could already smell the metal and the adrenaline.

"What?" John snapped, yanking his door open so fast it almost slammed into the wall. Remy opened his door only seconds later. When Rhane glanced into his room she noticed Marie standing back in the room in what she could have sworn was a sheet. Rhane smiled inwardly, but there were more important things happening that she had to warn John and Remy of.

"They've come, John. At least three hundred humans. I can smell them oan the air. They're lookin' fir a fight, the bastards," she almost yelled, grabbing John's arm sleeve and shaking him as she spoke. Every warrior had gotten used to sleeping in something they could get out of bed and fight in in seconds, and John and Remy were no exception. Remy had to duck into his room and pull a shirt and some shoes on, while John slipped on some shoes and disappeared down the hall, mumbling to himself much in the same fashion he had earlier that day.

-------------

"C'mon, _ma chere._ I'm sure you done heard the ruckus," Remy said to Marie as he scrounged round for a shirt, settling on a grey T-shirt thrown in the corner. He pulled it over his head, hair sticking up wildly as he pulled it the rest of the way on, leaning forward and kissing Marie's cheek.

"I'll be along," Marie said. She'd noticed Rhane's fleeting, but nevertheless knowing glance. And now she was glowing red as a beacon, sheet that was wrapped about her pulled up and clutched tightly.

"Alright, then, _cherie._ See ya down there." Remy snatched up his black bandana and headed out, running to catch up with John.

-------------

They had all gathered in the main hangar of the base. The council members stood around John and Remy, in a furious conversation with their leaders. Stuart, Shasa, Ryan and Erika were with the people they'd brought with them, filling them in. The rest of the army were standing around talking amongst themselves. When the council and the four met up, the conversations escalated to yelling.

"We have to go out there and face them head on. This is going to become a massacre if we don't. They'll follow us until we do fight!" Lance yelled. Several of the council members nodded their heads in agreement.

"We can't. We need to evacuate. Leave here and find somewhere else. This is not the place for our army to go up against theirs," Shasa shouted.

"The humans are severely outnumbered. We can take them." That seemed to be the almost unanimous sentiment.

"Stop arguing. It won't do us any good. We fight. Stuart, find some teleporters and have them get anyone injured or sick out of here and then come and find me. We're gonna need you. Marie, I know how much you want to be in this fight, but I really need you to not argue with me on this one. Please, take the children and anyone who can't fight. Find them a safe place to hide. Once you do, you can return if you think you would be a contribution. They think they're gonna bring this fight to us. They're wrong. We're takin' it to them," John's voice was quiet, yet commanding as he spoke. Nobody so much as whispered during his speech either. Marie stepped forward a moment later.

"I'll return after I find them a place," she said, suddenly realizing that he was trusting her for the first time since she'd joined up with them. Seizing the opportunity to get his friendship back and prove not all humans are worthless, she turned on her heel and went to get the children and lead them away.

-------------

They had left the hangar in silence, all contimplating different things, worried of what the night might bring. The air was thick with tension. Not a single person spoke as they lined up on a hill outside the hangar, ready to defend themselves the best they could. It was something they had been preparing for since the resistance had been put together. John turned to look at Remy, who sent him a knowing look.

"We'll be a'ight, _mon ami_."

"I know. I'm more worried about the one's were leading possibly to their death than I am about us," John admitted, glancing behind him and scanning the crowd of mutants, all looking worried, but ready.

"Don' let it get to you, _mon ami_. Death is a part of war. They chose to be in that war. People will die, and it ain't gonna be your fault every time. Unless you killed 'em," Remy told him. John sighed and nodded, knowing he was right.

"Sometimes, I wonder where I would be if you hadn't of stuck with me," John said. They both smirked at each other. That was when the first shout was heard. Then everybody began yelling to get their attention, pointing to the horizon. The two turned to look and, sure enough, an army of humans were marching over the hill ahead of them.

_---------------------------_

_(The lyric in the page break is from "Violence Fetish" by Disturbed.)_


	12. Chapter 11

IT LIVES! Anyone who reviewed -- thanks much! and we're quite sorry about our surprise hiatus. (Blame curt.) ;-D Sorry if it's a bit choppy.

kmf's stuff: no, it was both of our faults. enjoy!

curt's crap: yeah. so...here goes.

**_

* * *

_**

-----y-o-u-'r-e---p-u-s-h-i-n-g---a-n-d---f-i-g-h-t-i-n-g---y-o-u-r---w-a-y-----

**_Chapter Eleven_**

As soon as the rivals spotted each other across the hill, the battle was engaged. Everything erupted into a furious flurry of motion, explosion.

Evan Daniels sprouted his spikes like a porcupine and rushed headlong into the incoherent fray, screaming a wordless battle cry. He had come into the Resistance as a bit of a rogue. A mutant out on his own. He had cut ties with his former affiliation, the X-Men, a while back. His own aunt ran Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters now. He had scoffed when he had heard about it. No one had ever said what happened to that uptight bastard Scott Summers, but Evan figured he got what he deserved. Then Auntie O had taken over after Xavier was killed. Nothing said on how that happened either. Figured. All in all, sometimes the X-Men were more secretive than underground factions that Evan had run with now and again. More or less though, after he had cut ties with the X-Men, he had stood on his own. Until the Resistance had come along. Now, here was a "family" that he could feel with. Underground, upstarts, devil-may-care. Leader was impressive -- a lot like Evan himself: hard-headed and brash. Yeah, the Resistance was where he belonged.

-------------

Kimana was being herded away with the rest of what in her mind was termed "end-spectrums" -- the young and the old, as well as the sick and wounded.

"Marie! Marie!" Kimana had a bad feeling about this entire battle. They were two leads of two very different worlds going against one another. It would not end good. The question was who would fare better.

"What, Ki?" Marie asked, still encouraging the people to continue on behind Naomi.

"I want to help them. I've got a bad feeling about this, Marie."

"I --" Marie didn't want to tell her she couldn't, because Marie herself had full plans of turning straight back and heading out to the fight after everyone was to safety.

"I need you to watch me. Or Naomi or someone. 'Cos I can project myself. It'll come in handy, I think."

"Ki..." Marie said, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Don't, honey. I need you to help me and Naomi and Jubilee out with the crowd. The children have taken a shine to you, doll."

"Yeah, but more so to you, Marie. And you're going to leave. I can see it in your eyes, Marie."

Marie bit her lip. Damned telepaths. She couldn't lie to someone as astute as Kimana.

Kimana sighed. "Fine, Marie. Just come back in one piece. I'll cover for you."

"Thank you so much, Kimana." Marie smiled and started to head back.

"Marie!" Kimana called after her. Marie whirled around. Kimana stood, people passing around her, straight blue-black hair half obscuring her face. _Keep an eye on Stuart for me, if you can. And Remy. Don't let him get himself into trouble. And watch yourself. Luck._

_Thanks,_ Marie thought back.

-------------

It was chaos the minute the two armies clashed. John had lost sight of Remy ten minutes in, but he had spotted Marie as soon as she dove into the array. Gearson was taking a machine gun to any mutant who came within a foot of where he stood, Myra doing most of his dirty work. He was pushing his way through the crowd, trying to get to Gearson, but everytime he got close somebody jumped in his way.

Marie was back on the fucking field. He'd expected her to stay away, but he shouldn't have held his breath. She'd gotten a gun from somewhere, and wasn't wielding it too badly. Must be that gator-defence from her southern childhood, he mused, wry and darkly. He turned back to his goal though, toasting whoever the hell had been in his way.

He was going to get to Gearson, come hell or high flames.

-------------

Adrenaline rushed through Evan's body. Perhaps that why he didn't feel it. He was lost within the rush of the battle, in the thick of the mortal army, spikes shooting from his arms and back. He was charging through to the other side, close to where that asshole Gearson and his little elite bodyguards were on the knoll, with their Uzis.

Evan had it all planned out: he'd shoot the bastard right through the centre of his forehead, a bone spine fired from his wrist.

What he didn't realise was that Gearson had him beat before he ever got the thought finished in his mind.

It was the sudden chill -- that massive shock to his system that rapid bloodloss will do -- that alerted him to the fact that he was suddenly in possession of a losing hand, as Remy might have said. He stood stock-still, stunned, and -- it all seemed to be in slow motion to him -- looked down. His chest was red, coating his favourite silver loose fishnet tank and olive-drab undershirt. He could see the holes the bullets had made. Six, seven... Then he was falling, the sensation and nausea competing with each other. He heard foreign exclamations as he was caught before hitting the ground, his back instead of hitting grass and dirt, meeting the solid brace of a leg. French. It was Remy who'd caught him. In a disconnected part of his brain, he realised that, but there was only one thought on his mind.

_I'm dead. And I didn't tell Auntie O a goodbye._

-------------

Something was wrong. That much he knew as he stood before Gearson. The man hadn't shot him yet, that was the first clue. Standing only a few feet from the man, he knew that it had been a choice, because Gearson was looking right at him.

Smirking, he lit his flame throwers and yelled, "You just gonna stand there while I kill you?"

"No, because soon you won't be able to. Myra!" Gearson yelled. Something blue and shimmering went up around them, just as the teleporter appeared before him. No time was left for him to react. Her fingers touched his temple and the ground beneath him seemed to disappear. It was so silent, he finally willed himself to look around. He was on the battlefield, but no one was there. Except Gearson and Myra.

"What's going on?" he asked, eyes narrowing dangerously as he attempted to flick his flame throwers on. To his surprise, they weren't there.

"My world, my rules, Johnny boy. No powers," Myra tsked. Realization hit him like a brick wall. Mind control. She had taken over his head and brought him into her own, into a world that she could control. All the time he had spent with Kimana, though, had taught him how to build up mental blocks and kick someone out of your head. He was already at work on it when Gearson spoke.

"Why don't we just end this here? I'll call off my army if you and your people agree to a few terms," he said.

"What kind of terms?" he really was curious, but that didn't stop him from fighting to build a wall up around his brain.

"You can all register and live your lives like normal people, without the public knowing who you are. Only, I'll need a few of you to... study, if you will. Just so we can better understand your kind. So we can try to make things better for you, as well as us," the man replied. Already, John could hear the noises of the battle, distant but there. He knew what 'study' meant. He wanted mutants to experiment on.

"No. No way am I gonna hand over a few of my own people just to satisfy your curiousity. Screw that," he growled. With those words, the last of his mental block fell into place and he could see the mutants fighting the humans again. Smirking, he threw one of the fireballs. It hit Gearson in the shoulder. As he lifted his hand to throw the second one, he noticed the force field fall away and Myra moving. Still, he threw it, just as she threw herself at a badly wounded Gearson. They disappeared before the fireball could hit them.

-------------

"_John!_" he heard Remy yell. Turning to where the shout came from, he found that the human army was retreating, but someone was down. Someone important. Someone from _his_ side. He rushed to the crowd of council members and pushed his way through. Remy was kneeling, a shaking Evan Daniels braced against him. Several bullet wounds riddled the young man's torso, painting his olive-drab shirt an ugly Indian red, staining the leather of Remy's duster and the denim of his jeans. Remy looked up into his leader's questioning eyes as John dropped down beside them, but the Cajun shook his head.

"He ain't gon' make it, _mes amis_," he announced softly, knowing Evan already knew the truth as well.

"Call -- call my Auntie...Auntie O," Evan told them, eyes searching John and Remy's, his voice weak. "She..."

"Who's your aunt, kid?" John asked, a comforting hand on his dying comrade's shoulder. Marie answered for him, Evan closing his eyes and grimacing in pain.

"Storm."

John just stared for a moment. The gravity of the situation stunned him. He hadn't forgotten the white-haired, hardened African woman, and quite frankly had no wish to ever encounter her and the X-Men ever again. "Shit," he spat softly before nodding to Evan: "We'll let her know, Ev, I promise. Just don't talk anymore, man; it'll only hurt worse."

The young man nodded, eyes squeezing shut tightly as he started coughing up blood. Finally, a moment later, he stilled. Brown eyes opened for one last view. They didn't close until Remy gently slid his hand over the dusky face.

* * *

_(The lyric in the page break is from "Violence Fetish" by Disturbed.)_


	13. epilogue

FINISHED! yay! We can do it...when we get our collective arses in gear.

kmf's stuff: 2 for 1. I bet if half of you were still reading it, you'd be extremely excited. now, I'm with curt. sleep time.

curt's crap: w00t. -goes to bed, man-

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-----y-o-u---c-a-n-'t---d-e-n-y---w-h-a-t---y-o-u---s-e-e----

John had forgotten the number. He stood looking down at the stolen, little pre-paid cell phone that Jubilee had plunked down before him.

"I promised to stop doing crap like that, John," she had said before leaving him alone in what he had staked out as the conference room of the abandoned warehouse he'd found that part of the group had come to in Detroit. They had split up, hoping that there was safety in coverage. Hoping that it wasn't a stupid ass decision, and hoping that Gearson was out of commission for a while.

"John?"

Marie's soft voice made him jump, the words loud in the silence.

"Yeah? What?"

"You don't know what to call, do ya?"

"Fuck," he cursed softly, aloud. He pushed a hand back through his blond hair. He was tired. Bone-weary, dog-tired. Dull blue eyes met Marie's red-rimmed emerald ones.

"No," he admitted straight-forward.

Marie offered him a sympathetic smile and came over and punched in the number for the headmaster's -- headmistress' now -- direct line. "Here ya go." She hit send and handed it over.

"_Hello?_" Ororo Munroe's voice was strident and urgent -- this line was used for parents seeking a good "school" for their child or for wayward mutant students. A hint of compassion could be found below the cultured tones. John sighed.

"Storm."

"_Who is this?_"she asked. He hesitated. She was gonna explode as soon as she heard his name.

"John. John Allerdyce," he answered. There was no hesitation on her part. The explosion was instantaneous. Wincing, he listened as she shrieked at him.

"_You joined Magneto. You left! How dare you call here!_"

"Look, I'm neither askin' to come back, nor am I saying that what I did was right. Even though I sure as hell believe it was, maybe it wasn't for you. That's not why I called. I called because of your nephew, Evan Daniels," he interrupted. She was quiet for a moment. Her mixed emotions were almost tangible. Blood-tied responsibility won out.

"_What about him?_"

"I don't know any other way to say this, so...he died. The humans found the Resistance base in Montana and attacked. He was shot. The funeral's in two days. He wanted you to know. And I thought it would only be right if you're here for it."

"_I can't,_" she whispered, and he could hear the tears already.

"Why? It's only an hour's flight in the Blackbird. Marie assured me of that. So, it can't be that you don't have time for it," he could see Marie waving her hands and mouthing 'no' out of the corner of his eye as he said it, but he couldn't stop himself. Evan deserved to have his family be there for him after being gunned down like a dog. No way was she getting off the hook that easily.

"_I don't want the human army associating the school with the resistance. I can't very well have them attack the school. These kids are _not_ ready to fight them. I do not want the humans coming here. If I am seen in the presence of the Resistance leaders, they will think I am one of you. I cannot have that. And what is Marie doing with_ you?"

He almost let it slide out of pity for the woman's situation. But it was just so...offensive. "She's not. She's with the Resistance." Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Storm, he thought darkly. "Besides, it's none of your damned business what she does now, anyways. She's not one of you anymore, is she?" he snapped, knowing that the only thing that would drive Marie away from the mansion would be somebody telling her that. He didn't even wait for a reply as he hung up the phone. Marie was glaring at him openly.

"I'm not one of _you_, either," she stated.

"You aren't? Had me fooled when you ran back into a fight that you could've gotten _killed _in, just to fight for _our_ rights. Was I wrong?" As he said this, she seemed more and more surprised and less angry.

"What?"

"Look, you were once one of us, Marie. A mutant. You know what it's like to be looked down upon because your not one of 'them'. You've got no powers, no way of protecting yourself, but you ran into that fight for _us_. You are a part of the Resistance, whether you like it or not. Which leads to what I've been wanting to ask you since we got here. Would you like to be a council member?" She took a step back. He could see the self-doubt in her eyes, as well as her surprise at him. John Allerdyce, the cold pyro, _asking_ her? If she wanted to be a _council member_? At _his_ side? An _equal_?

"Why would you ask a human?" she inquired, eyes wary.

"Human or not, you _are_ one of us. Besides, it's not like you're not already a part of the council. I mean, you know every last thing that happens with us anyways. This is just making it official," he told her. She was pacing as he finished up. Coming to a decision, she faced him and smiled. She'd accepted, he knew that before she spoke.

"Alright. You got yaself a new council member." He saw the hint of a blush creep into her face at her accent broading with her elation. She cleared her throat and continued, "I just hope we don't lose anymore. We've already buried one member and we're gonna cremate another here soon. We can't afford to lose any more. But...thank you, John." With that she left. He watched the door shut, an annoying nagging in the back of his mind. There was no way they would escape this war without losing many more lives, including those on the council. But he couldn't help it. He hoped as she did, too.

-------------

Remy was swirling his drink idly as he sat in the more or less common room. It was just him, John, Marie, Jubilee, Naomi, maybe a fledgling or two, Kimana, Stuart and his band out here. Ryan, Shasa and Erika had all split up with their teams. The rest of the council had divvied up, more or less two leaders per group.

One of the fledglings had sparked the electricity, so the television they'd scalped from the Dumpster out on the side was on, tuned to some news station or another. Remy was damned tired of reporters and press and general public figures/people of power. All he wanted was a break. As Marie sank down on the sofa next to him, curling up and laying her head upon his shoulder and wrapping her arms round him, that want for a break became all the more intense.

"John done went and called Evan's aunt," Marie said quietly, her drawl pronounced.

"Here now, _ma belle._ Dat's a good thing, _non_? John keepin' his word an' all," Remy assured, tipping her chin up to look him in the eye. She gave him a tired smile and half-hearted shrug.

"Yeah. I mean, I know John's not as bad as we -- back at Xavier's -- he's not as bad as we all thought. He's a bit rough 'round the edges. Kinda like you, Remy LeBeau." He felt her smile, even though she had her head laid back down and she was snuggling up to him. He opened his mouth to speak when the reporter said something that made him stop.

"It seems that charismatic, anti-mutant movement figurehead Adam Gearson has not been seen or heard from in the past few days. While an engaging public speaker, Mr Gearson was known to be rather private about his life outside publicity..."

"Well, I be damned."

-------------

However delighted John was at the news that Gearson had turned tail and run like the coward he was, it was immediately sobered. Especially the next day. They pulled a bit -- well, probably a really big -- illegal act, and dug Evan a grave in the woods off a cemetary on the more deserted end of town. The service, for lack of a more fitting term, was short and sweet. Remy, John and Stuart filled in the grave, tamped down the dirt, and left a chain necklace, one of the ones that had almost always adorned Evan's neck on top of it, left as it had been, with blood still caught in the engraved "Spyke" name-tag hanging from the gold chain.

Evan was lost, as Trent had been, and countless others. But Marie was gained, officially. It was always good to have hope that there were still some pulling for the underdogs in this battle. Which, hopefully, John thought, with Gearson temporarily -- because he knew that he was not gone -- out of the picture, was a battle quieted, for the now.

* * *

_(The lyric in the page-break is from "Violence Fetish" by Disturbed.)_


End file.
